mary, please

i try to support the video booths on telegraph avenue, but it's so dead and the guy behind the counter is a little too into my business. can't i degrade myself in private? he tries to give me tips on how to get someone into my booth as he eats his bagel with cream cheese. but there's no one there anyway! i'm out there, on my bike to whole foods where i really get off. 3 lb. bag of organic apples for $1.99 and i'm in ecstasy. i chat with the cashier who used to work at the whole foods where i used to work in san francisco. she goes to sf state, too. maybe we can be friends. i'm on my bike again. someone calls me faggoty ass (he forgets the 'bitch' part), but that's when i'm walking in berkeley. walking to meet that professor, who said he was into serious relationships only and thought we should just take it easy and trade massages. but get that girl in the bedroom and she goes crazy. no massages, no tender kisses, all he wants to do is fuck.